The Dating Game
by dracoredeemed
Summary: Harry has to find a date for the Hallowe'en Ball, Hermione is giving him a really hard time, and there's something about Draco that Harry can't figure out. H/D Slash. One-shot.


**Disclaimer: ****This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended**.

**A/N: This is a Halloween gift fic for Draconi, whose prompt words were: ghoul, pumpkin, scream, jinx and argumentative.**

**The Dating Game**

Harry took a bite of his toast and consulted his schedule for the umpteenth time. The Halloween ball was this Friday and he still didn't have a date. That gave him three days to ask someone, though why he had to take a date, he still didn't know. Hermione had just glared at him when he'd said as much, and told him in that matter-of-fact voice that of _course _he had to take a date. He was the guest of honour and would be receiving an award for services to wizardkind. It was _expected_. He sighed and wished he could just refuse the award, or have them send it through the post, but frowned darkly when he realised how foolish that idea was. Turning back to his notes, he started to calculate how much free time he had between now and then. Really, if he didn't ask someone soon, everyone would be taken, not to mention that girls tended to get rather indignant if you waited until the last minute. So, he had three free periods, meal times, and that was it. He had Quidditch practice this evening, and Friday's potions exam meant he would have to spend all tomorrow evening studying. He looked around and smiled grimly when his eyes met Ginny's. She was dating Dean Thomas, so she was off the list, as were most of the other girls in his year, for one reason or another. She smiled back at him before turning to laugh at something Dean was saying and Harry was surprised to find he didn't mind at all.

He and Ginny had tried to get back together after the final battle, when they returned to Hogwarts to take their NEWTS, but Harry had been too raw and edgy. He'd still had the taste of death and destruction in his mouth, the stain of blood on his hands, and he couldn't seem to feel anything. He'd told himself he needed time, but they both knew it was over when, finally, Ginny had resorted to bailing Harry up in an abandoned classroom, and had kissed him. He'd felt nothing, and she'd known it. So they'd parted ways and Ginny had taken up with Dean some weeks later. He sighed as he watched them together. They seemed happy and Harry was glad for Ginny, but he was beginning to worry that he'd never feel that for anyone, not ever again.

Rubbing his face tiredly, he finished off the last of his toast and started to make a list. It was short – very short. The only girls who didn't already have partners were younger, or Slytherin. And there was no way in hell he was taking Millicent Bullstrode. Not that he had anything against big girls. In fact, he found their curviness rather comforting. And he had given up being wary of Slytherins after Malfoy had come up to him after the last battle and thanked him for saving his life. He'd never have believed it, but there had definitely been sincerity and appreciation in his eyes when he'd confronted Harry and held out his hand. Harry had taken it this time, and now they had a kind of uneasy truce between them. So, no, it wasn't that Millicent was Slytherin, or that she was 'buxom'…. He cocked his head and tried to think of just what it was that stopped him from asking her. After some moments, he gave up with a shrug, deciding that he just didn't like her for some reason, and that was that.

The only others girls were Luna and Cho. Cho had been sick in the infirmary for the past week after falling foul of a misaimed Bat Bogey Hex that had somehow gone wrong. He crossed her name off immediately on principle – he was _not_ going there again – so that left Luna. He liked Luna; she was a bit vague, perhaps, but she was pretty and she had a good heart. He didn't fancy her – didn't actually think of Luna in the girl category at all, actually – but that didn't matter. He needed a date and she was going to have to be it. He wondered how she'd go sitting at the Head Table with him, and looked over at the Ravenclaw table to see if she was there. She was, her chin resting on her upturned palm, staring dreamily into the distance as her radish earrings dangled ominously close to her glass of pumpkin juice. She really did look slightly loony, he chuckled to himself.

"God, no, Harry." He turned to find Hermione glaring at him threateningly, her gaze flitting over to Luna as she followed his line of sight. "I like Luna but she'd make a spectacle of herself at the Head Table and you know it. And God knows what she would wear." Hermione rolled her eyes at the thought and Harry looked at her with a smirk.

"I like the way she dresses," he remarked belligerently.

"I don't care. The answer is no."

It was Harry's turn to roll his eyes this time. He hated it when Hermione was argumentative – which was all the time, it seemed. Honestly, where did she get off organising his life like this? Her interest in his life was almost ghoulish. Sometimes she drove him so crazy he could scream.

He relented after some moments, however, when he realised that if she didn't organise him, he'd never get anything done. Sighing resignedly, he looked over to where she was still glaring at him. "Fine. _You _find someone suitable, then."

"What about Millicent?"

"No," Harry replied quickly and Hermione raised her eyebrows and pursed her lips, but didn't say anything.

"Leave it with me," she said finally as she rose from the table and gathered her book bag. "I'll see you after Arithmancy." She slung her bag over her shoulder and headed for the doors. Harry blanched as he wondered who she would come up with. He only hoped it wouldn't be some silly fourth year with stars in her eyes. Oh, God. He paled at the thought of some fourteen year old hanging off his arm and flirting with him, anxious to be seen with the 'great wizard hero.' God, no! What had he done? He'd have to track down Hermione before she could do anything rash and persuade her that he would find his own date after all. Maybe Millie wouldn't be so bad….

Turning back to his plate, he realised he was still hungry and leaned over to grab another piece of toast. When he looked up, Malfoy was walking past the Gryffindor table with Blaise Zabini. Harry admired the way Malfoy's sleek blond hair always looked so neat and wished his own hair would allow him to tame it. Malfoy was always dressed immaculately and his school robes seemed to fit him to perfection. He looked almost – elegant, which is well nigh impossible in any school uniform. Harry cocked his head and watched as Malfoy and Zabini walked out of the hall, obviously deep in conversation. Malfoy's robes swished around him as he walked and, when they reached the doorway, he dropped a pale, long-fingered hand to rest lightly on Zabini's arm. The gesture stirred something in Harry's gut, though he didn't know what, and he watched in fascination as they continued to talk for a few more moments, before Malfoy's hand dropped back to his side and they parted ways, heading in different directions.

Harry cast a Tempus Charm and realised he had ten minutes to get to Potions, so he quickly swallowed his toast, grabbed his bag, and ran out the door in the same direction that Malfoy had taken, down towards the dungeons. He caught up with the Slytherin near the bottom of the last stairwell.

"Hey, Malfoy, how's it going?" he remarked amiably as he brushed past, anxious to be at his desk before Slughorn arrived.

"Potter." The other boy nodded at him as he passed and followed him into the classroom at a more leisurely pace.

Harry took his usual place towards the back next to Ron, glancing over when Malfoy entered and sat down across from him. He admired the pale hands again when they reached into Malfoy's book bag to retrieve his books. His fingers were long and slender, his nails neat and well-kept. Harry looked at his own nails and frowned, then shrugged and shook his head. Glancing back towards Malfoy, he watched as the blond opened his textbook and placed parchment and quill next to it. The fingers moved deftly and economically and Harry watched in fascination as they traced over the parchment, then up toward his face to clasp a stray lock of hair, gently tucking it behind his ear and smoothing it before dropping back gracefully to the desk. His face was so pale it almost matched the white of his hair, but his lashes were long and thick, though only slightly darker. When he looked down at his book, they almost brushed against his cheeks. Harry cocked his head and furrowed his brow for a moment, wondering absently why the features should fascinate him so. He was drawn to the angular face and soft grey eyes in a rather disturbing way – like one is drawn to a particularly spectacular storm or piece of sad music. Only Malfoy was just a boy, though not bad looking, he supposed, if he'd ever taken the time to notice. No, it was something else… something….

It was a few moments before the dawn of realisation suddenly took hold. It wrenched at his insides and his eyes opened wide in silent surprise.

_Oh…. You're gay._

It was so obvious that Harry wondered how it had taken him so long to see it. It wasn't that Malfoy _looked _gay, in the stereotypical sense…. No, he was not effeminate in that way at all, though he could certainly be described as well-put-together. It was more the way he moved and touched, or the look in his eyes… something… he couldn't quite put his finger on it, but whatever it was, Harry knew more assuredly than he had ever known anything in his life. It was tangible; it was _there._ Malfoy was gay. Huh.

Slughorn entered the room a few moments later, and Harry turned his attention to the front of the class as the potion ingredients appeared on the board. The rest of the lesson moved quickly and it seemed like no time at all before they were packing up their bags again and heading out the door. Harry almost bumped into Malfoy as they both rose from their desks at the same time. He mumbled an apology and Malfoy smiled as he stood back and waited for Harry to go first. Harry smiled back crookedly and then turned to the door. He was halfway through it when the plan hit him, its brilliance nearly knocking the wind out of him. He stopped momentarily and looked behind him to where Malfoy was waiting to follow him through the door. The rest of the room was empty, save for Slughorn, who was marking papers at his desk, and a couple of students who were still replacing bottles of ingredients in the storage cupboard.

Malfoy raised an eyebrow in question. "Forget something?"

"Um, no, not really…." Harry turned toward him as he hoisted his bag over his shoulder.

"Then shouldn't we be moving? Transfiguration starts in a few minutes." Malfoy looked at him calmly, still obviously waiting for Harry to move.

"Um, Malfoy? I wonder if you'd do me a huge favour?" Harry took a deep breath and hoped Malfoy wouldn't slug him. "Will you be my date for the Halloween Ball? I mean, I understand if you're already going with someone…. Are you, by the way?"

Malfoy's eyebrows had shot up as Harry had spoken, but he didn't look angry. "Uh, that would be no."

Harry looked at the floor and felt foolish that he was disappointed, because it was not as if it would have been a _real _date, anyway. Malfoy might be gay, but _he _wasn't. This was just a way to get back at Hermione. "Oh, well, no problem, I understand –"

"No, I meant that I don't already have a date."

Harry looked up at Malfoy's words and saw that the other boy was looking at him curiously. "Oh, well, then… so, do you want to go with me?" he asked hopefully.

Malfoy looked amused. "You sure you want to be seen with me at the Head Table?"

Harry smiled back. "Oh, yes. 'Course I'm sure." Malfoy's eyebrows shot up again at that, but he didn't say anything further. "So, I'll meet you in the entrance hall, then?" Harry continued.

"Why don't you come down to the Slytherin common room and ask for me?" Malfoy replied as he gazed directly into Harry's eyes.

"Oh. Okay. Yeah, sure, that's okay. Um, seven-fifteen okay?" Harry shrugged awkwardly. He didn't really mind where they met.

Malfoy nodded his agreement. "See you then," he replied softly, his smile shy this time, and Harry thought he looked a bit nervous. Well, he thought to himself, wouldn't you be nervous if your ex-rival asked you on a date out of the blue and no one even knows you're gay? Well, at least he _thought_ no one knew Malfoy was gay. He was sure he would have heard something if Malfoy had already come out. Harry didn't care if anyone thought _he _was gay. In fact, it might be a good thing, given the numbers of doe-eyed young girls who'd taken to following him around lately. He grinned to himself as he imagined Hermione's face when he told her. _That _ought to get her off his back.

Harry was still grinning daftly when he turned away to head out the door again. Suddenly, he stopped as he came to a decision. "You coming to Transfiguration?" he asked as Malfoy appeared in the hallway. Malfoy looked slightly surprised when Harry gestured ahead, but nodded again and turned in the direction of their next class, Harry falling into step beside him. They walked in amiable silence together and Harry felt warm inside.

---------------------

"What? What did you say, Harry?" Hermione looked at him incredulously and Harry couldn't stop himself from smirking.

"I said, I have a date for the ball." Harry replied smugly.

"Yes, yes, I heard that bit, but did you really say you're going with _Malfoy_?" Hermione's brow was furrowed and her hands sat on her hips. "Is this a joke? Or are you really gay?"

"Well, actually, Hermione, I don't know if I'm gay. But I intend to find out."

Hermione spluttered and Harry chuckled.

"Well, not that there's anything wrong with being gay, Harry, but I_ never _got the impression you were." Her look was curious now. "So, Malfoy is gay?"

"No idea," he lied. Well, it wasn't really a lie. He did think Malfoy was gay, but he hadn't actually asked him if he was, so…. "But I think going on a date might constitute evidence that he is." He smirked at Hermione's shocked look. She appeared to be about to hyperventilate and Harry couldn't tell whether it was because she thought he was gay or because she had lost control of the situation. He suspected it was the latter.

She sputtered a bit more and appeared ready to come up with some further comment, so he cut her off.

"Look, Hermione, I am going with Malfoy, and that's that. So, deal with it." He turned then, and strode out of the Great Hall before Hermione could say any more. He felt alive and in control again for the first time in months and _oh,_ it felt fantastic!

-------------------------------

Harry loitered outside the Slytherin common room for several minutes before he got up the courage to speak to the portrait. It wasn't that he was nervous about meeting Malfoy. No, he was fine with that. Of course he was. Why shouldn't he be? And it wasn't that he was officially in Slytherin territory. House unity had improved immensely in the last few months. He was just a little nervous about the ball, is all. Yes, that was it. He had to give a speech and, although he had been preparing for weeks, he still felt some trepidation at standing up in front of the entire school. No wonder he was nervous! Didn't he read somewhere that public speaking was the number one fear of everyone in Britain? He sighed heavily and drew in a slow breath, closing his eyes and breathing deeply as he willed himself to calm down.

Eventually, he started to relax, so he opened his eyes and approached the portrait, speaking in what he hoped was a confident voice. "Erm, I'm here to see Draco Malfoy."

The aristocratic man in the portrait looked down his nose at Harry and raised his eyebrows. "And who are you, lad?"

"Harry Potter, Sir."

"Well, then, I suppose I do have instructions to let you in," he replied haughtily as the portrait frame swung forward to allow him entrance.

Harry stepped over the threshold and peered around the edge of the door jamb. There were only a couple of people in the common room and Malfoy was one of them. He looked up when the portrait opened. "You're late." Malfoy rose and walked over to where Harry stood uncertainly on the threshold.

"Oh, yeah, sorry about that. I, um, got caught up." Harry moved forward to greet him. "You look nice," he said, and then blinked in surprise at his own statement.

"Thanks, so do you. Shall we go, then?" Draco walked forward and hesitantly kissed Harry on the cheek. Harry blushed.

"Um, yeah, let's go." Harry suddenly felt very warm and he inserted a finger into the collar of his robes to ease his discomfort. He stood back to let Malfoy through the portrait hole before him, watching as the other boy moved graciously past.

It was several moments before Malfoy turned and regarded him with a hint of amusement. "You coming, Harry?"

Harry started at the mention of his given name. It felt good to hear it from Malfoy's – _Draco's_ - lips, for some reason….

"Yes… er, yes…" he stuttered and felt utterly stupid.

Draco smiled and reached out his hand. Harry took it.

They exited the portrait hole together. It slid shut behind them with a soft _swish_ and Draco stopped, turning to Harry.

Harry's breath caught in his throat when he looked up and saw Draco staring at him intently. He was beautiful – his hair shone like spun gold and his skin glowed against the soft blue tones of his formal robes. But when Harry looked up into those grey eyes….

Oh.

Harry reminded himself to breathe.

After a few long moments, he forced himself to move.

But when he moved, what he encountered was not what he expected. Draco moved towards him and wrapped his arms around Harry's waist. He pulled Harry close and gently whispered into his ear. "Thanks for asking me."

Harry couldn't breathe. His chest constricted and his head swam. _Oh, God._ He felt lost in the embrace, all thought deserting him. But then Draco pulled away and turned toward the stairwell. Harry blinked several times and then followed, still feeling rather dazed.

-----------------------

The Great Hall was decorated with a profusion of hanging lanterns and magically-carved floating pumpkins, giving the place a festive air. The ceiling had been enchanted to resemble the starry night outside, as usual, but Harry thought that the stars seemed to sparkle just a little bit brighter than normal, though it could have been just his imagination. Harry stopped at the entrance and pulled Draco back. Draco turned to him, his eyebrows raised in question.

"You realise people are going to freak out that we're together, right?" Harry asked pensively.

Draco shrugged, but didn't look at all worried. "Of course. Anything to do with you is bound to attract attention." He smirked then.

"But does anyone know you're gay, Draco?"

"Does anyone know _you're _gay, Harry?"

Harry sputtered in confusion. "But I'm not… I, er…" He stopped then, not quite sure what he wanted to say. He didn't want Draco to think the date was a joke, even if he had asked him to spite Hermione. He liked Draco and didn't want him to feel used, and there was always the fact that he was perfectly happy to bring another boy to the ball. The whole gay thing didn't really matter to him at all, he realised. So, what did it matter if Draco thought he was gay? If the whole school thought he was gay? "It's none of their business, actually," was what he eventually said. "And I don't care either way."

"Well, then, neither do I." Draco slipped his arm through Harry's. "Shall we go in?"

The room was already full of students and bubbling with celebratory laughter and excitement. Harry squeezed Draco's arm quickly and then moved forward into the crowd. Several people turned as they walked past, eyeing them curiously, and Harry saw a few nudges and winks out of the corner of his eye as they proceeded to the Head Table. After some moments, however, he slowed down and looked at Draco warily. The room had become eerily quiet in the space of seconds, though the crowd continued to part for them. Draco moved forward determinedly and Harry fell into step beside him, his chin held high and his arm still tightly clutching Draco's. By the time they found their seats, the entire room was looking at them.

"Good evening, Minister," Harry said politely as he pulled out the chair next to him. The Minister was accompanied by several of his Ministerial cronies, including Kingsley Shacklebolt. Apart from Kingsley, who waved to him amiably, they all looked rather stuffy, Harry thought.

"Nice to see you, Harry." The Minister nodded, but his eyes were guarded as he turned and inclined his head to Draco. "Young Mr. Malfoy."

Draco took the seat on the other side of Harry and nodded in response. "Minister."

Slowly, chatter began to fill the room once again as people finally turned their attention away from the Head Table and back to their conversations. Harry sighed inaudibly in relief and smirked at Draco. "Well, that could have been worse." His voice was low as he picked up his goblet of pumpkin juice.

Draco smirked his reply and leaned in to whisper into Harry's ear. "Don't think we're getting off that easily." Draco's hot breath made the fine hairs on his neck stand on end. "Especially when our friends catch up with us." Draco's lips barely brushed the shell of his ear as he spoke, causing Harry to shiver involuntarily. He looked over to the Gryffindor table and groaned when he saw the look of absolute fury in Ron's eyes. So, Hermione hadn't told him. Nice. Scanning across to the Slytherin table, where Draco's gaze currently rested, he could see Blaise and Pansy in a heated discussion as they threw cautious glances in the direction of the Head Table.

"Hmmm…. I think you might be right."

They were prevented from further speculation when food suddenly appeared on the tables. The spread was spectacular – everything from 'blood' soup and pumpkin cake to candy spiders adorned the dishes, which were overflowing. They helped themselves to several servings of everything and a relative quiet descended over the hall as students, teachers, and guests alike indulged to their utmost. Every so often, Harry would shoot sly glances in Draco's direction to see how he was doing, but the Slytherin seemed perfectly at ease. During the meal, he kept up a running commentary to Harry about the food, or the guests, engaging Harry in gentle banter, and Harry found him an amusing companion. He wondered if Draco had always been this way – relaxed and confident; witty, even – or if he'd grown into it. Perhaps the ending of the war and the death of Voldemort had made a positive impression on him. God knows, Draco's life over the past couple of years had to have been difficult, to say the least. Harry recalled the terrifying visions he had seen when he had entered Voldemort's mind last year; scenes of Draco being forced to Crucio prisoners against his will, of a near-crazed Voldemort, whom Draco would have lived closely with those last few months before the final battle. The thoughts caused a wave of compassion to wash over him and he turned to regard Draco with some awe. While it was true that Harry had nearly died himself on several occasions, and had been terrorised by Voldemort for most of his life, he could not even imagine what it must have been like to live in close proximity to the evil wizard, wondering at every other moment whether he would live another night or whether his parents would be asked to submit to some new indignity. Harry's heart clenched with a new feeling as he continued to gaze at the blond next to him. He wasn't sure what it was, but when Draco turned at that point and looked directly into his eyes, he felt the gaze pierce through him and settle in his chest and the pit of his stomach, a low roiling inside that made him dizzy and slightly nauseous. Harry must have been looking rather intently, because Draco reached out a hand and touched his own where it lay on the table, a look of understanding flashing quickly across his features. He squeezed Harry's fingers and smiled, and Harry thought it the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

Finally, when the dishes were all but empty and the hum of conversation once more drifted over the proceedings, Headmistress McGonagall stood and tapped her glass to gain everyone's attention, before moving toward the podium.

"Good evening everyone. I trust you enjoyed the special treats that were prepared for this evening's feast. However, before we move the tables and begin the dancing, I would like to introduce some special guests we have with us tonight." She turned then and indicated the Minister and other guests. "Minister Scrimgeour has kindly agreed to address us and I believe he has a very special award to make tonight. Minister?" She began to clap and the rest of the room joined in as Scrimgeour moved to the podium to replace her. Suddenly, Harry felt very nervous.

He glanced quickly at Draco, who was looking at him with what appeared to be admiration, as the Minister launched into an excruciatingly long, blow-by-blow account of the final battle and Harry's role in it. Harry's face slowly warmed as the accolades poured forth, and he wished the earth would swallow him up so he didn't have to feel the intense embarrassment he knew was making his cheeks flushed with heat.

"Harry Potter selflessly threw himself into battle with You Know Who, even when he knew he might die. He was brave, bold and strong, and we are all so very grateful for this gift he has bestowed upon us."

Harry had been prepared for some praise and had thought he'd be okay with it, but this was bordering on the ridiculous! His cheeks burned as, impossibly, Scrimgeour continued to find even more descriptive terms to acclaim him.

"And now, the man of the hour. Please give him a round of applause – the one and only Saviour of the Wizarding World, Harry Potter!" The room erupted into wild applause as the Minister turned toward Harry with a wide smile. Harry blanched and sat rooted to the spot. His mind raced with rash thoughts of escape. But Draco was looking at him expectantly and there was that dazzling smile again. Finally, he managed to lift himself out of his chair and walk towards the podium, his mind continuing to fight with his instinctual urge to flee. Looking around the room, he saw the faces of his friends and schoolmates all gazing up at him, waiting for him to make his speech.

He waited until the applause died down and the room was quiet again before he began to speak. His hands shook as he took out the piece of paper on which he had written notes, but it was more from anger than nerves. He was so tired of all the attention and he'd wanted to enjoy the evening, instead of being lauded as the equivalent of the next bloody Merlin. It was mind-boggling the lengths to which the Ministry would go to milk him of every bit of publicity it could.

Suddenly, Harry crumpled the notes in his fist and looked up at the audience with determination. He drew a deep breath.

"You're all wrong! I'm not a hero; I'm just a kid who was forced to fight against an evil wizard. I got lucky! And I had loads of help." He turned to regard the Minister then. "And I will not be turned into a publicity machine – or anything else – not for the Ministry, not for anyone! Voldemort is dead and that's all that matters." He stopped as the faces of the audience became confused. Working his jaw, he tried to think of a way to make them all _understand_. But his mouth had stopped working. His hands began to sweat as he continued to gaze around at the expectant faces. They were always expectant! Always wanting something _more _from him. Damn them all!

Without warning, he threw the crumpled paper on the floor, jumped down from the stage, and ran down the length of the hall and out the doors, not stopping until he had reached the cool air outside. He could hear the voices back in the hall rising as one, but he didn't care. He slowed down to a fast walk as his breath puffed against the crisp, damp October air, but didn't stop until he had reached the edge of the lake. Finally, he leaned against a nearby tree and tried to catch his breath. They didn't understand – they'd _never_ understand. He didn't know why he'd ever thought they would. He let his head drop forward in silent resignation as his breathing slowed, and quietly slid down the tree until he was sitting at its foot. Resting his head in his hands, he raised his knees to support his elbows and silently wished he was anywhere else but here. It was as if his whole life was jinxed.

After several minutes, he heard footsteps crunching softly across the grass, but he didn't look up, even when a warm body dropped down beside him, mirroring his pose. They sat like that for a long time, it seemed, and Harry felt somewhat calmed by the nearness of the other boy and the warmth that radiated from him. He turned, though, when he felt soft fingers gently slide up his arm and grasp his hand, pulling it down into his companion's lap.

"I made a fool of myself, didn't I?" Harry sighed as he leaned his head back against the tree trunk, not daring to look at Draco's face.

"You did what you had to do, Harry." Draco stroked his hand absently as he spoke and Harry found the action strangely relaxing, letting out a deep breath that he didn't even know he was holding. "You always do what you have to do, even when others don't like it."

Harry closed his eyes and gave himself over to the balmy feeling that washed around his heart, gently coaxing away the anger and hurt until he melted back against the tree with a soft sigh.

"I like that… a lot," Draco continued, his voice barely a whisper, "that you don't care what anyone thinks."

Harry opened his eyes when he felt soft lips brush his and was suddenly overwhelmed with affection for the boy who was now kneeling in front of him and gently clasping his jaw with one hand. He opened his mouth to say something, but Draco pressed in and slid his lips against Harry's in a way that was neither simply affectionate nor consoling. He felt a hand brush his neck and slide around his shoulders, pulling him closer, and he allowed himself to fall into the embrace with an enthusiasm that shocked him to his core. The hot, wet mouth claimed his with a passion, and his chest heaved as he gasped for breath under the heady onslaught. Desire shot through him when a velvety tongue swiped across his own and he groaned and involuntarily dragged his fingers across Draco's scalp to pull him closer, digging his fingers into the soft white strands as their tongues danced against each other. God. _This_ was what he'd been missing! He was on fire and the burning was white hot in its intensity as it pulsed through his veins and settled in his groin. He had never felt this way with Ginny; never felt this slow burn that made him feel like his insides were melting into a pool of pure pleasure. It was like molten magna but almost electrifying in its fiery passion. And it was Draco who was the cause. The one-time rival whom he'd despised and reviled, but who was, at this moment, the very centre of his universe, his anchor to sanity and peace and calm. Harry felt himself sinking deeper and deeper into the depths, but he didn't care; let the ocean of passion swallow him up – he would gladly drown in its warm currents.

Time stood still, it seemed, until, eventually, Draco pulled back, his breath panting against Harry's red, swollen lips. Harry sucked in a breath and groaned at the loss, then dropped his head forward until his forehead rested against the other boy's.

"God, what took me so long to figure it out?" he mumbled between laboured breaths.

"I've wondered that myself for some time now," Draco replied.

Harry looked at him with curious eyes as he tried to process what he'd just heard. "What? You…"

"I've known you were gay since you saved me last autumn, Harry. I've been waiting all this time for you to realise it yourself."

Harry's mouth moved into a silent "oh" as he thought back to the final battle and Draco clutching him tightly as they flew out of the Room of Requirement together amidst the flames of the Feindfyre. "I… I…."

"Shhhh…." And Draco's lips were on his again and it all made perfect sense.

_Fin_

12


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